


A Beautiful Lie

by BloodyBatsAndRoses



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DC Universe: Rebirth spoilers, DC: Rebirth, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Convergence, Pre-Flashpoint Batman, Prologue Series, Rated for potential explicit language, Refers to elements from RHATO: Rebirth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7121785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyBatsAndRoses/pseuds/BloodyBatsAndRoses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark "White" is not the only foreigner to the post-Flashpoint timeline...</p><p>When Bruce Wayne wakes up in the Batcave, he's at first oblivious to the differences surrounding him. But it quickly becomes apparent that things are not as they seem, and whatever space he now occupied, it is intent on throwing Bruce off guard. The most unsettling shift of all? Jason Todd is speaking to him again.</p><p>But perhaps what is most unsettling is the way they all look at him. A simulation meant to trick him wouldn't be so suspicious of him. Which could only mean one thing...</p><p>Can Bruce find a way out and return home? Or will he succumb to the temptations of a world promising such beautiful lies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of Place

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All DC Comics characters belong to DC Comics.
> 
> Note: This was originally intended as a one shot. Somewhere along the way I started formulating a small plot that would stretch it into a miniseries. And then I ended up inserting bits that tie into a story I'd been planning with Jason for quite a while now. We'll see how well writing that one goes. For now, I hope you enjoy the story thus far.

Bruce gasped, his body shaking as he forced himself awake. When did he fall asleep? He had no time; his leads were all dead ends, and with the trail going cold there was no way he could anticipate the target's next move. He couldn't sleep. Had no time for sleep. There would be no rest for him until he could bring rest to the victims.

  
Bruce pulled off his cowl and pinched his eyes. His head was so sore. Honestly, what came over him? He shook his head and reached out for the keys on the panel before him, read to get back to work.

  
He froze, realizing that his computer was showing a file different from what he was working on. Had Dick slipped in and borrowed the computer while he was sleeping? A possibility, but he doubted Dick would have been daring enough to sneak past Bruce while he was asleep. Never mind not returning the computer to how it was when he got there. How long was he asleep for, anyway? Bruce shook his head and let the matter go. He'll approach Dick about not clearing up properly later.

  
His frown deepened as he tried and failed to pull up the file. The computer didn't have anything on the May Day murders, a case file he had meticulously built over the course of the last few days.

  
"Impossible," he muttered. Was the file accidentally deleted? But no, Dick would have known better. Tim couldn't factor into it--it wasn't like him. Maybe Cassandra, but she tended to find a way to avoid using the computer when it came to her case work.

  
Bruce sat there mulling about it when he heard the north entrance open. Voices flooded in, bringing into the cave what sounded like an argument. Bruce tried to ignore them, at first, but the tones and expressions drew his attention. He froze, sure that he had made a mistake. He didn't recognize one of them, but the other one... It _wasn't_ possible.

  
"Duke, I'm telling you, I'm _fine_. Honestly, you're only here for a couple months and you're already playing mother hen. I've been at this longer than you!"

  
" _Right_. And it's not my place to _remind_ you that--"

  
"--that I died. Nice to know you're paying attention."

  
"--but you can excuse me for worrying--"

  
"And I'm saying you _don't need to_."

  
"--but you didn't see yourself when you half-crawled your way up to the Manor, bleeding out and barely conscious. And then there's the company you keep."

  
"Right! The company I keep! The exiled and self-righteous Amazon and the defective Kryptonian clone! Who hate each other! And I left alone. _In my apartment_. For the last _two days_. Duke, sign me off. Please. Believe me when I say I'm worried."

  
"As much as I'd like to agree, it's really not my call. Honestly, I don't even know why you're pestering me."

  
The two young men finally finished their approach. Bruce put off turning around as he tried to make sense of what he just overheard. Who was this Duke? When did he bring someone new into the cave--and in the last couple of months, too? He couldn't for the life of him remember.

  
And then there was the matter of Duke's companion. Bruce knew that voice well, but he was almost foreign to the sound of the lightness in its tone. So playful, so... at peace. Even if he was, at the moment, exasperated if not a little bit panicked. He took a deep breath and finally brought the chair around to face them.

  
Before him stood Jason Todd and the young man named Duke, who was dark skinned and had a serious yet hesitant air about him. He was cautious; Bruce could see why he would have taken an interest in Duke. His eyes had a fire in them, but this one seemed to be the type who took his time. Not out of diligence, like Tim. Like he needed to be sure with himself. Clearly, in this case, he wanted Bruce's opinion before doing anything regarding Jason. As for Jason himself...

  
Jason looked younger than Bruce remembered. He was beat up, that was for sure, and the bandages wrapped around his head and neck looked fresh. Bruce could still recognize the thirst in Jason's eyes, but they seemed a bit more solemn. Not anguished. It was like the tempest had calmed, but was still searching for something to challenge.

  
The two were also staring at him, he realized, their conversation cut short as soon as he turned to face them. They exchanged glances--concerned glances--before turning back to Bruce.

  
"Um, B?" started Jason. Bruce nearly balked at the familiarity in Jason's tone. He couldn't understand how that was possible. "Are you okay?"

  
"What do you mean, I'm fine," Bruce replied automatically. He knew he was leagues away from fine, but there was no other way to address the situation at hand but to pretend and push ahead.

  
"Are you sure, Mr. Wayne?" Duke asked cautiously. He looked past him at the screen. "Did something come up about an old case? Should I get ready?" Definitely a new Robin then, although still incredibly formal about how to address him. Bruce would have addressed that already.

  
"Wait, this is an old case file," said Jason. He walked past Bruce and started typing away, "Why'd you pull this up again?" Bruce looked up at him, bewildered. Jason was acting as though they hadn't just had a huge fight and he'd gone off on his own again.

  
Jason stopped typing midway. His breath caught, in the way it did when he was about to get angry. To Bruce's surprise, he didn't make an outburst. Instead Jason quietly closed the case file and turned to Duke.

  
"Go get Dick," he said, his voice stern and commanding.

  
"What? Why?" Duke wasn't keen on being told to do something so suddenly, but he still made his way to the computer. "What about you?" Jason started back the way they came, his gait quick and purposeful.

  
"Getting Alfred."

  
Bruce stood, intending to follow Jason. But upon rising, he found that his knees wobbled under his weight. Duke caught him just in time, lowering him back into his seat.

  
"You're not well," he insisted. "What was that case file you pulled, anyway? Jason did _not_ look happy."

  
Bruce tried to recall the particulars. Something about an Irish mobster. He pulled the case file back up again, ignoring the cautioning look Duke gave him. The kid was perceptive, Bruce decided. But he was also mindful. Didn't want to press where he wasn't invited, although the curiosity was plain to see.

  
Once the case file was pulled up, Bruce was beginning to notice glaring inconsistencies that made him rethink his entire situation. It was more than just falling asleep out of the blue and waking up slightly disoriented. Something was _wrong_. The dates in the case file, for one, didn't make any sense. Bruce did not remember taking on an Irish mobster as described in the case file. The individual was an up-and-comer, related to a wealthy businessman now deceased. And-- _what?_  Bruce re-read the headline documenting the arrest again, hoping that he'd read wrong:

  
_'Sons of Wayne and MacManus arrested alongside Irish mobsters'_

  
One of the boys in the picture was a teenage Jason.

  
Bruce started typing furiously, pulling up Jason's personal file and cross-referencing the dates. His year of birth was different. He should have been much older than the file suggested. But why change it? He felt Duke watching him carefully, which made him think.

  
Bruce looked around him, at the cave and all of the things stored around him. It felt newer somehow. Like he hadn't spent as much time in it, that the Batcave hadn't seen as many hardships as it had. Some parts looked the same, while others were completely brand new. He tried to stand again.

  
"Bruce-!" started Duke.

  
This time his legs were steady. He started after Jason.

  
Whether Duke followed or not, Bruce didn't pay attention. Everything was off. And a part of him suspected that Jason was up to something.

  
_Fool. Believing that was why he left. Again._

  
He hadn't realized how hard it was to try and trust Jason again. Their attempts at making up had failed so many times, Bruce had been sure. So sure. But he was wrong, and Jason was gone again. Had he concocted a strange simulation and trapped him inside, all in the hopes of teaching Bruce a lesson? Was Duke a scapegoat in that regard? _'Here's a new face, a new Robin to get attached to. Watch as I take him away.'_

  
But even that line of thinking didn't make any sense. And what about that case file? It made no sense to add an extra detail that Bruce knew nothing about.

  
"Jason!" he called out as soon as he got out of the lift. Jason jumped, apparently not expecting Bruce to have followed him from the cave. He looked agitated as Bruce approached him.

  
"Not now, Bruce," insisted Jason, turning away and shouting, "Alfred!" No answer came.

  
"No, _now_ Jason. What's going on? What have you done to me?"

  
" _What?_ " Jason looked at him, incredulous. "How is this _my_ fault?"

  
"There's no sense in pretending. I know why you're doing this. You need to stop."

  
"Doing what-- _oh_. Oh _God_ , are you talking about MacManus again? Shit, Bruce, he wasn't even on my radar. I _told_ you, I didn't even know he was still in Gotham!" Jason tried to run his hand over his head, but winced as soon as his hand touched the bandaged parts of his head.

  
"Jason--" Bruce reached out for his hand.

  
"No--Bruce, what the hell?" Jason took a couple steps away from Bruce, knocking into a console. The Ming dynasty vase standing atop it tipped and fell to the floor, shattering.

  
"Hey, what's going on?" Bruce saw Tim enter in from the far end of the hallway, no doubt drawn to the noise. He looked at the vase and frowned, "Alfred is _not_ gonna be happy about that."

  
"Don't just _stand_ there!" insisted Jason. He seemed flustered that he'd broken the vase. "Help me pick up the pieces!"

  
Bruce gaped at the scene. Jason and Tim coordinated on collecting the pieces, a few irritated quips exchanged as Tim tried to pry out of Jason what was happening. But Jason didn't seem resentful of his junior. In fact, he almost seemed relieved that he was there. Once they swept the pieces into a pile under the console, Jason not so subtly motioned to Bruce, waiting on Tim to say something.

  
Tim took notice and blinked. His eyes widened, as though realizing for the first time something about Bruce. Like something was wrong.

  
"What the _what_?" he cried.

  
"Duke and I were just down to see him when we saw him like that. Where's Alfred? Maybe he knows what's going on..."

  
"You don't think it has anything to do with... you know." Tim looked to Jason expectantly. Jason considered for a moment, his eyes lighting up.

  
"I didn't even consider. I mean the pit didn't seem to affect my ability to age--"

  
"Arguable. Didn't you complain about a bouncer carding you a few weeks back?"

  
" _Not relevant_. But _aging_ him? I thought the Dionysium was supposed to be pure." Jason looked at Bruce again. There was something else in his eyes that Bruce couldn't quite work out. His first thought was worry, but there was something else.

  
There were footsteps behind them. Duke had caught up to them.

  
"Dick's on his way. Says he's bringing a friend who seemed eager to come for some reason," said Duke. Bruce watched Tim, waiting to see if he would notice that Duke shouldn't be there, that he was a total stranger. But he merely nodded.

  
"We should probably move out of the hallway," suggested Duke.

  
"Right," Jason said, suddenly gruff. "You two go do that." He started walking off.

  
"Where are you going _now_?"

  
"My room? I dunno. I just need to _think_. Call me when Dick's here--and explain to Alfred what happened!"

  
"Jason!" called Tim, confused. "What's wrong?"

  
Jason stopped and looked back. This time his expression was all too familiar to Bruce: anger. Hurt. Bruce's chest grew tight as Jason opened his mouth to speak.

  
"Ask _him_. He seems to have a clear idea."

  
He stalked off. Bruce had the horrible sinking feeling that he'd made another idiotic mistake.  
  



	2. Out of Time

The door slammed shut behind Jason. The sound made him jump, and for a long, agonizing moment his nerves stood on end, waiting. Anticipating. But Jason was in his room--his room in _Wayne Manor_ \--and as much as it made him uncomfortable to be in it, what with all the 'fun' memories that came with it, there was no safer place for him. For now.

He paced across the room, his hands ghosting over his head, mindful of the bandages wrapped over the wound. He tried to recall the attack, but whatever he could remember came in pieces. And it hurt. Remembering hurt.

Of course it hurt. It hurt the first few months after the Lazarus Pit--why wouldn't it hurt now? But Jason was fine. He didn't die. There was a difference.  
He passed his hand over the left side of his skull again. He could almost feel the crowbar hit that spot again. And again, and again, and again--

"No. _No_ , not _now_ ," Jason groaned, swaying on his feet. _Damn it_ , he was doing fine! He'd made his peace with it, with Bruce, with--with _everything_. So why...

Jason sat at the edge of his bed. Behind him Titus scratched from outside his door, whimpering. He ignored the dog and concentrated on his breathing. Meditation. That would help. Clear his mind; figure himself out. And then, maybe, figure out Bruce.

_So old... and the way he looked at me._

Titus whimpered again. Jason didn't have the heart nor the energy to ignore him. He got up and turned to approach the door.

The floor rushed to meet him instead.

* * *

 

They were saying that he'd aged. Bruce checked the mirror and found no sign that he had. In fact, he was sure that it was the reverse and that everyone else had gotten younger. For what reason, he didn't know.

"Maybe it was the Dionysium," pondered Tim, more to himself than to anyone else. He struck a fist onto his flattened palm. "We need to run a blood test."

"And then what? Cook up a simulation testing his blood against a sample of Dionysium?" questioned Duke, sounding skeptical. "Barring how long that would take, Julia said she stored that sample following Bruce's instructions before... you know. And it's the only sample. We don't even know where to start looking."

"What's wrong with asking Julia?"

"She's a _Pennyworth_ , Tim."

"Okay fine. Give me ten minutes in the system and I'll find it."

Bruce turned back to the pair just as Duke opened his mouth to argue.

"What _is_ this Dionysium you keep talking about?" he asked. Duke and Tim shared a look.

"Master Bruce?"

Alfred stood by the sitting room entrance, his right hand cupped lightly in his left. Bruce shifted as he felt Alfred's eyes study him. As he watched, Bruce noticed there were changes in Alfred, too. He was younger, just like Tim and Jason. There was a crestfallen air about him. Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his spot.

"My, it's as Master Tim said," Alfred remarked softly.

"Don't worry, Alfred," said Tim. He sounded almost excited. "Duke and I are on top of this. First, we'll need a blood sample--"

"There will be no such thing!" insisted Alfred, the sternness of his voice making even Bruce jump. "We are to get him out of that suit, into something far more comfortable, and have all of you sit down for dinner."

"Oh, Dick's coming with a friend," said Duke. Tim glared at him.

  
"Seriously? Dude, c'mon," Tim insisted.

" _You_ want to argue the point with Alfred?"

"Don't be stupid, _of course_ not. I'll set the table!"

They walked off, almost racing towards the kitchen. Bruce and Alfred shared the silence before the latter coughed.

"Let's get you changed, shall we, Sir?" he suggested. Bruce was a little distracted with the way Alfred fiddled with his right wrist.

Bruce followed Alfred to his room, but they went without a word spoken between them. No terse remark about any case Bruce was working on, nor did he have anything to say about the boys. He didn't even ask about Jason, who still worried Bruce enough to make him go looking. When all was said and done Alfred packed up his uniform and nodded Bruce's way. Bruce noticed that the old man could barely even meet his eyes.

"I'll return these to the cave," he said, "and see to it that Master Duke and Master Tim don't burn down the kitchen in my absence."

He left, leaving Bruce with too much space to think.

"What is going on?" he mumbled. He left his room, moving slowly as he began to study his surroundings. He was older to them. They all seemed younger to him. And there was a new member of the family. And everything seemed fine about that. Jason was giving way. Even Tim. But just when he thought things were becoming too different, they were also the same. Alfred was still Alfred, Tim still got carried away by his own excitement, and Jason...

_Jason..._

This was another second chance. Bruce already had many second chances, chances he messed up. But if whatever was happening meant getting another shot at fixing things with Jason he had to take it. Bruce checked the hallway and noted the familiarity of the layout. Good. At least that hadn't changed either. He made his way to Jason, his gait quick and steady. Bruce reminded himself that he needed to approach Jason differently. Better. No more mistakes. No more sending Jason away.

_Assuming he's still in his room._

No. No. He'll be there. Bruce had to believe, otherwise...

Otherwise? Bruce stopped short of the turn. That thought terrified him. He had never considered before Jason left that there was the possibility that he would never return. No--that wasn't accurate. Perhaps he had considered it but hadn't taken it seriously. Jason was obsessed with him--with revenge. And when he slowly got past that, he became obsessed with something else. Proving himself. And earning forgiveness. If Jason left and never came back to try again, what did that mean for Bruce? For Jason? For everything? Bruce could only brace himself for it, because he had been about to find out.

Until he woke up and found himself someplace new. Some- _when_ different.

The sound of a dog whimpering broke Bruce's train of thought. He looked down to see Titus, barely a couple years old, looking up at him with such sad and pitiful eyes. Bruce instinctively leaned down to pet him when he stopped short.

"What's wrong, boy?" he asked, dread settling into a knot in his throat. He already knew the answer. Titus nudged him before turning to run to a door. Jason's door.

Bruce tried the doorknob. It was locked.

"Jason?" he called, knocking frantically. "Jason, are you there?"

There was no answer.

Bruce knocked on the door again, this time his other hand flat against the wood. He felt for the sensation of muted vibrations, a sign that indicated that something--or someone--was barricading the door. It came back hollow, giving Bruce the freedom to kick it open.

"Jason!" he cried. On the floor lay Jason, almost spread-eagled on his front, one of his arms bent funny. Titus started barking, running past Bruce to warn the others. Bruce ran to Jason's side and carefully fixed his arm. He felt for any broken bones before turning him onto his back. Bruce checked the bandages for the telltale sign of blood, but found none.

He searched the room for something sharp. His eyes fell on Jason's bag, lying forlornly on the floor by the window. Positioned for when the need came for a hasty retreat. Bruce ran to it and started digging through it, hoping for a batarang or a hunting knife.

He came upon the black-banded hilt of a familiar dagger. The kris dagger Talia had given Jason. Bruce had wondered if Jason had kept it after all this time. This Jason apparently had. Bruce unsheathed it and began to carefully cut away at the bandages wrapped around Jason's torso.

There was an angry, almost red splotch stretching across Jason's skin. Internal bleeding. Just then Titus returned with Tim, Duke, and Alfred in tow. Bruce saw their mouths moving, but couldn't hear anything.

"Please," he begged, his eyes stinging. "I can't... I can't lose him again."  
His fear was becoming true. Jason left. He would never come home. Because he had died again. And this boy, this Jason...

"Bruce!"

Somehow Bruce was in the hallway. Cassandra was with him, holding his hands. She had said nothing; hers wasn't the voice that called out to him. Cassandra's grip tightened over his shaking hands. He met her eyes.

She was sure. _So_ sure; Jason was going to pull through.

There was a gust of wind, and then Bruce was being ushered down the stairs and back again into the sitting room. He looked around to see who else was there, saw Tim sit across from him, eyes looking everywhere over Bruce, refusing to meet his eyes. Kate Kane was there too. When did she get there? And beside her was Dick Grayson, dressed in his Nightwing uniform.

"Dick? When..." Bruce started. He almost looked for the signs, the telltale clues that would tell Bruce the same story that he learned from Duke, Tim, and Alfred. And Jason.

"Bruce," said Dick gently. Bruce wanted to yell. Almost yell. How dare Dick be so kind and understanding and so... so _patient_. "Jason is going to be fine. He's here, at home. With all of us."

"I--I said things. I believed--I thought--Dick. _Dick_ , I _blamed_ him for what's happening."

"I know you're confused," replied Dick in that same, infuriatingly calm tone. "It's a very confusing time right now. But I need you to understand. Jason is going to be okay. We aren't going to let anything happen to him."

"I should go help," Tim suddenly said. "Duke's still learning. And he's probably going to be blaming himself for this. He was the one to patch up Jason when he came in, and I--"

Kate put a firm hand on Tim's shoulder.

"Let Thomas learn on his own, Drake," said Kate. "Alfred is with him, as is Grayson's friend. The speedster."

_Speedster?_

"Wally is here?" asked Bruce. Dick blinked in surprise at him.

"Um, yes. Yes he is. You _know_ Wally?"

"He _remembers_ me?"

Everyone turned to face the man standing in the sitting room entrance, where spots of blood along his hands and wrists stained his otherwise perfectly shiny, new red uniform. 'New' in that it was a blend of his old Kid Flash suit and the all-red ensemble of his Flash uniform. Bruce blinked at him, wondering when Wally West had changed his look.

"Of course I do," said Bruce, finding his voice after a moment's pause. "Is there a reason for me not to?"

Wally looked from Bruce to Dick and then to everyone else in the room.

"You remember what I explained to you?" he asked Dick.

"In a sense, yeah."

"Right, well, I have reason to believe that Bruce Wayne isn't the Bruce Wayne you were looking for."

"What are you saying, West," demanded Bruce. Why the hell could only Wally see him as he should?

"What I'm saying is you, Bruce, aren't from this timeline," said Wally. "You're from a timeline that shouldn't exist."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! And thanks for leaving kudos for the first chapters!


	3. Roundabout

Lights zipped past. At times there were spots of nothing. And then, just as suddenly, everywhere was light. Drifting, feeling nothing, knowing nothing. Being nothing.

And then, just as abruptly, it all came crashing to a halt. And then suddenly he was back, knowing pain. Fearing it. Wanting to escape. Because to come back meant to endure it all over again.

_Just let me go. Just let me die._

A lifetime ago he was just a boy. A lifetime ago his biggest concern was that he was technically the richest son in all of Gotham. Granted, he was the second son, so probably he wouldn’t inherit it all. And it was stupid to even think that way. Because it was just capes and cowls to him. The mask, the job. What was the next mission? He didn’t have time for extracurriculars. He had no friends.

And Grayson tried. Oh, how he tried. He tried to set Jason up, make him meet others just like him. Just like all of them: kid heroes with a lot to prove. There was Roy—Speedy, at the time—and while Jason thought the kid was decent his ego couldn’t take the fact that the guy was Dick’s leftover. They were friends, close, and then quite suddenly they weren’t.

_“We’re called the Teen Titans. Maybe you can become one of us, someday.”_

A forgotten history. A lifetime of memories, all gone because of some cheap sacrifice. Why? Why did someone always have to die?

And Jason was selfish. Too caught up in his own issues to care. Thinking he didn’t need anyone. Just him and Batman, until that started to fall apart too.

He stopped as he slipped back into nothingness. Let himself feel the flow before following it. What would it have been like if he hadn’t become Robin? Dead in the streets after a deal gone south, just like everyone was afraid would happen to him? Or maybe he would fine, well adjusted with a decent job. A normal life with friends and family. But no world was that fair. Not even if it wanted to. Jason could not run from the hand he was dealt—that was no option. He needed to try. He always had to try. So long as he still had life in his body, he had to try. Because he wanted to—because he _chose_ to.

 _“So then you can_ choose _to walk away!”_

_“… no, Scarlet. It’s not that simple.”_

Jason turned to the sound of his own voice. Older. Wearier. He watched from above as the world became more coherent. An old apartment, small with a single couch, a beat up television set, and a sink meant to double as the bathroom and the kitchen. There was a bedroom door, where nothing but guns and equipment spilled out of it. A teenage girl in a strange mask and red hair sat curled up on the couch watching static on the TV. And her companion… Jason. A different Jason sat by the bedroom door cleaning out one of his guns.

“He can’t even trust you! You yourself said that it wasn’t worth staying if he can’t trust you to do this!”

“I said that because it was true, and it still is. But there’s more to it than that. He can’t trust me, but the job stays the same. I have to do it, so I walk. So I can do what he can’t.”

The girl sighed, exasperated. She tossed the remote aside and twisted so that she was facing him.

“Jason, he thinks you’re in to murder those people.”

“And you think I wouldn’t when it came down to it? Not everything’s changed, Scarlet.”

“Except that you’re ready to hold your leash so tight you’ll come running with the slightest tug. You know, I don’t get you. I don’t think I ever will. I want to support you through this, I do. But I just don’t get it.”

“You’re a kid. Of course you don’t get it.”

“So then _why?_ Why do you have to wait for him to come _back_?”

The other Jason put down the barrel he had been cleaning and leaned forward in his chair. He looked a little different, but he was still Jason. Even with the weird red hair and the amusingly stylish white streak.

“Because I can’t trust myself to do this alone. Sure, there’s the rest of the family, but they don’t trust me like Batman trusts me. And he may slip some times. But other times he’s given me a chance. I’m not gonna fail him. Never again.”

The girl merely sighed and turned back to the TV, “You still make no sense.”

Jason wanted to reach out and explain to the girl that he was right—the older Jason was right. And dammit all, he should have realized it sooner. But it seemed like he wasn’t done growing. He was still a kid trying to prove himself.

There was a resounding crack—a flash echoing across the cosmos. Jason slammed back into his body, pain flooding his senses. He gasped for air, fought the numbness in his muscles. Blurs appeared in his vision once he opened his eyes.

“Your name,” said a voice. Jason could feel the energy surging from his touch. “What is your name?”

“Jason… Jason Todd,” he rasped. He collected himself, looked around and found a man with red hair and a different Flash costume hovering over him. Jason was surprised he knew him: Wally West.

“Go!” Wally told someone. “Let Dick know he’s up.”

Footsteps immediately followed by Duke’s frantic shouting. Wally looked at Jason again and smiled.

“Welcome back, Jason.”

“Uh huh. Right,” Jason winced at his sore throat. “Question: did I just die again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to Wally West for coming back to the DCU and helping me chip away at my Writer's Block. We got a bit more to go, but man am I glad I finally got this up.


	4. Roundabout II

He cornered Dick with that knowing glare, hoping that it was as effective on this world as it was in his own. Dick looked away at first, tentative, but found he couldn’t resist. He sighed, took off his mask, and sat in one of the vacant chairs before the desk. Just past the door, hiding away out of sight and pretending like he wasn’t there was Tim, eager to be the first to hear about whatever would transpire in the room. 

“Are you sure about this?” asked Dick. Bruce waved the question aside. Dick looked to Alfred, hopeful for one more tug of resistance, but the old butler was beside himself. Dick sighed, “Fine. Where do you want to start?”

Bruce opened his mouth and found to his surprise, nothing. He didn’t know what he could ask, or whether he should, which may have been the cause of Dick’s hesitation. There might be changes he would be better off not knowing.

_But if it had something to do with Jason…_

He closed his mouth and thought to himself what knowledge would take priority. There was the matter of how Jason got hurt, and what it had to do with their argument in the cave. There was that article, however, but knowing anything about that first wouldn’t change the fact that Jason was almost killed.

Bruce’s breath caught, “Let’s start with when Jason got here. What happened?”

Dick grimaced, “I wasn’t here. You’ll have to ask Duke, and I’m not sure—”

“I’m fine. I got this.”

Duke entered the room, eyes baggy and skin a little pale. When was the last time the boy had a good night’s sleep? Bruce straightened, wondering on how to approach the boy he had never met. He should have asked about him too; it would have been right. He had no idea how long he was going to be in this world, but Duke was his ward, no doubt. So long as he was the Bruce Wayne in that role he had to do better.

He gestured to the empty chair next to Dick. Duke took it, hands a little shaky. Bruce saw some still-healing cuts, especially along Duke’s calluses. Bruce wondered how he was treating him, and how the others took to him. If the training was too hard, or if Bruce was being unfair. There was familiarity between Duke and Dick; the former looked to have earned the latter’s respect. Dick nodded in confidence as Duke settled down. The young man took a deep breath and sighed.

“You were out wrapping up loose ends with Claire—um, Gotham Girl,” he paused; Bruce must have shown his confusion. “No Gotham Girl where you come from? Okay. Um, TL;DR: two metas showed up months ago with powers kind of like Superman, and they were Gotham and Gotham Girl. But, uh, thinks went bad.” His gaze became distant. Dick reached out and laid a supportive hand on Duke’s arm.

“She’s going to be fine, Duke.”

“Right. Sure.”

“While I was out,” continued Bruce, hoping to keep on track. He ignored the reproachful glare Dick sent him, “That was when Jason showed up? ‘Bleeding out on the front steps’ as you put it?”

Duke blushed. “N-no,” he started hastily. “He wasn’t—he didn’t _literally_ crawl up to the Manor. On his own. Someone brought him here. I was just… exaggerating. To, uh…”

“To get the point across to Jason,” Dick answered for him. “Because Jason’s hard-headed and needs dramatic gestures to listen, sometimes.”

Duke nodded to that sentiment. “Right. Yeah. And he was angry. He didn’t like what you said about the guy… what was his name again? Fowler?”

_Fowler?_ Bruce thought this whole mess was over someone named MacManus.

“Just focus on _that_ night, Duke. What did you see?”

Duke breathed deeply again. “Let’s see… Damian was trying to beat me in a round of Tiny Giant World,” he rubbed his arm subconsciously, “Still got the bruises to show for it. The doorbell rang, but Alfred was already running.”

“Really?” said Bruce.

“A call…” Duke snapped his fingers. “The phone rang. Someone called the landline. Anyway, Alfred was shouting that we needed to open up the trauma kit and to get a bed ready. I ran to help Alfred, thinking he might need help hauling you in. But it was Jason. And the Fowler guy, Shane, was there—black dude, maybe mixed? He didn’t stick around, though. Just told us what happened and then took off suddenly. Said something about being tracked? No idea.” Duke took a pause to breathe in again. His nerves were doing better, but they hadn’t stopped him from rushing through his story. Bruce found himself entranced by Duke’s animated gestures. A change from his usually reserved demeanour.

“What was the damage?”

“Jason was gut shot, three bullets in the lower abdomen. I helped Alfred… operate.” Duke squeezed his eyes shut, “I still can’t believe I helped cut him open. I’m just a teenager, what the _hell_.”

“Relax,” started Dick. “Hey. _Breathe_.”

Duke did as he was told. “He’s, um… he’s awake now. If you want to go see him.”

Bruce sorely wanted to, but that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Jason.

“I want to hear the rest of the story. What happened when I… when _your_ Bruce came home?”

“You—sorry, _he_ was livid. He asked for details, but Alfred told him everything. Alfred _knew_ the guy that dropped Jason off, and as soon as he said the name you went stomping off into Jason’s room. Jason was barely conscious, but it was enough to get him riled up so bad that he… he coded.” Duke gulped.

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Bruce. Duke was getting so pale he was sure the kid was about to collapse. “Alfred—”

“Come along, Master Duke,” said Alfred. Duke got up and followed him out the door. “And you too, Master Timothy; you’ve both yet to finish your dinner.” There was a resigned grumble, and several footsteps followed after Alfred and Duke.

It was only Bruce and Dick now. Dick fiddled with his mask, avoiding Bruce’s eyes. He was upset with him too.

“What?” he asked, coming across almost a little too hostile. Dick glared at him.

“You just couldn’t leave it alone,” he replied. He sighed, shaking his head, “I know it’s pointless yelling at _you_ for it, but my God, Bruce. He was Jason’s _only_ friend unrelated to anything that we do and you _killed_ it. It’s been years. You should have gotten over it.”

“But I didn’t,” said Bruce.

“No.”

Ruining things like he always did.

“What exactly did I do?”

Dick looked at him incredulously, “You mean that night when you stormed into Jason’s room and practically forced him awake so he could explain how Shane shot him up?”

“He _shot_ Jason?” cried Bruce. Dick shot him another look.

“See—exactly that. Thank God Kate was staying here, otherwise Jason might have just bled to death right then and there. You were _livid_ , and Jason was beside himself. It was like you were possessed.”

“Do you have a theory as to why?” Bruce was afraid to ask this part. Hearing Dick’s criticism always hurt, as it always reminded Bruce of how far back his mistakes had gone.

Dick smiled wryly. “Boy do I,” he started. “Bruce, as much as our ‘you’ avoided to say much about it, it’s pretty damn obvious that you blamed _him_ for Jason’s murder.”

Bruce looked at Dick, dumbfounded. But he simply shrugged in response. This was the truth, and a part of Bruce couldn’t shake away the headline and push aside the thought. The possibility.

He _would_ have believed that.

“The story,” he asked, a light sigh on his lips. “Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am nervously watching the very tedious tether Lobdell has the RHATO: Rebirth ball on. The minute that ball drops... I reeaaally don't want to see that.


End file.
